Login

Manticore · (This post was last modified: 10-02-2012, 07:28 AM by Manticore.)

ID: JAMES LAMBERT

Lambert was awoken by a rattling on the barred cell door. Plagued by nightmares, his restless sleep was easily broken, and he rolled over on the slab to see two large Rogues looking in at him.

'Rise n' shine, princess. Got yerself a special appointment this mornin'.'

Lambert's eyes slowly came into focus, and he saw that these two were different men than had escorted him into the cell to begin with. Suddenly he remembered the last words spoken to him, and turned to reach for the makeup bag and folded dress he'd left in the corner.

'Nah boy, leave that crap. Ain't Pita yer seein' today.'

Lambert froze, his hand already grasping the bag. Slowly, he let it fall to the floor and stood up, glancing down at himself. He was still wearing the same flightsuit he'd been captured in... four, five days ago now? It was beginning to show signs of wear already, and was stained in several places.

The door rattled open, and rough hands immediately grabbed him by the arms and dragged him out. Lambert briefly considered a plan to surprise and overwhelm them somewhere along the way to their destination, but then discarded the idea after glancing at the two hulking brutes 'escorting' him. He also admitted to having a certain morbid curiosity at what new torments awaited him today, if it wasn't to be another tea party with the girl, Pita.

They dragged him through a labyrinth of corridors, into what was clearly an older and less frequented part of the base. Signs of age were apparent: worn paint, burn marks, and a thin layer of dust on the floor. Eventually they reached a large door with 'BAY #7B' stenciled on it in big block letters. One guard momentarily detached from his arm to go to a small keypad recessed into the wall and enter a brief code.

The doors hissed open with a squeal, revealing a large docking bay. The bay doors were closed tight, and piles of refuse near the walls indicated a level of disuse. A Lane Hacker gunship was parked in the center docking circle.

The guards pulled him into the bay, and the doors shut noisily behind them.

Before anyone could speak, a voice echoed across the room, likely from an intercom of some sort. 'That will be all, gentlemen. Lock the door on your way out; we wouldn't want our dear guest here to leave before we're done with him.'

The two brutes glanced around in momentary confusion, then shrugged and walked out. The door closed behind them and then all was silent. Lambert waited a moment, and then half-stumbled forward towards the gunship.

Then, he heard a hatch hiss open and the sound of footsteps. He froze, and looked up at the ship as a tall feminine figure emerged from behind the ship. She was dressed in all-black fatigues devoid of any insignia. The only way he could think of to describe the way she moved was 'unnatural'. She walked with bizarrely perfect posture, arms not moving and taking precise and measured steps. With a jolt he realized why it had seemed familiar to him... it was the same way that every robotic mech he'd ever seen had walked.

Her face was finally revealed by the bay's dim lighting and he recoiled from her ghastly visage. Her jet-black hair, cut shoulder-length, seemed normal, and her matching dark eyes also seemed fine. But the rest of her face was a monstrosity. Skin a milky, unnatural white, contrasted with a hideous black mask that covered the entire lower half of her face. The mask had a number of wires and tubes running into it from various points on her body, and some of the tubes pumped a strange blue-purple liquid into her.

She walked up to face him, eyes burning with a deep passion. 'Lambert, at last I have you.' She paused, drinking in his presence with her eyes. Her voice was rich and commanding, with a sensual husk and a hint of something vaguely synthetic. 'Do you remember me?'

Lambert's brow creased as he looked at her. Surely he would've remembered that grim mask and all those wires and tubes. But when he looked into her dark almond-shaped eyes, something from the deep, long forgotten part of his memory poked at him.

His eyes narrowed, furiously trying to remember. Her face contorted itself into what he supposed was a grotesque impersonation of a smile, and she spoke again, this time her voice dripping in irony. 'Help me; they're making me do it.'

Help me; they're making me do it'...

Suddenly she was once again a normal person in his eyes, a scared-looking woman with panic in her eyes. 'Help me; they're making me do it,' she said, voice quavering with fear. Her plain white flightsuit was stained and tattered, and she had a wild, desperate look in those stunning dark eyes.

He remembered the grenade launcher in his hands, a military model liberated from one of her captors. Outcasts, the hated cardamine peddlers. This was one of their ships, yes. A freighter, in the Tau-23 system. And she had been the only cargo.

'Don't move, girl,' he had said, even as she had backed herself against the bulkhead. He'd been wearing full EV combat gear, but had his blast shield up to reveal his face. His loyal men were in the process of clearing the rest of the ship. His gloved fist tightened on the trigger of the grenade launcher. 'Wouldn't want to lose any of that valuable knowledge in your head.'

A sound abruptly echoed through the ship over the intercom, a malevolent Outcast's voice. 'Kill him. We'll reward you richly. Do it. Now!'

The woman shook her head violently. 'No, no, no, no, NO!' But then her eyes glazed over, a vacant look in her eyes. He was baffled and was about to say something when she abruptly shook herself. His only warning was a flash of rage in her eyes before she launched herself at him, howling like a feral animal.

He reacted quickly, his years of tortuous 'training' and experience kicking in. He dove backwards, the enhanced exoskeleton of his armor propelling him, and he squeezed the trigger of the grenade launcher. It coughed loudly, sending its offering not at the woman, but past her. The bulkhead behind her exploded into red-hot shards of metal, and the air in the room immediately began rushing through the hole into the vacuum of space.

Her animal howl turned into a shriek of terror as an invisible hand grabbed her from behind and yanked her out of the jagged hole into open space. That was the last he'd seen of her...

...until now. He immediately snapped out of the vivid memory as recognition dawned in his eyes. It had been years but it was her, after all. What the hell had happened to her?

'Yes, I see you finally remember me. The intervening years haven't been kind, as you can see. And this is only the tip of the iceberg, after all. I have you to thank for this, you know. Now that our roles are reversed, I intend to find a measure of'¦ justice.'

She paused, again staring at him with a passionate focus.

The moment was interrupted as the door behind him hissed open. He saw the surprise and then rash of anger in her eyes, and then turned to see Pita standing in the open doorway.

'What is the meaning of this? I left specific instructions not to be disturbed!' the woman behind him yelled.

Pita's eyes never left him. 'There you are, Brenna. I've been looking for you all morning!' Abruptly her eyes narrowed in anger. 'WHY aren't you dressed? You look like an ugly man again!'

Her hand moved to the collar around her neck, where it gently pressed the horrible button.

Lambert's world exploded in pain, and he collapsed to the floor, fighting not to scream. Every nerve was afire as powerful currents of electricity rippled through his body. He was only vaguely aware of the woman behind him crossing the room to confront Pita. He heard, rather than saw, the ringing slap as Pita was struck.

'You will NOT do that again girl, do you understand me? Right now, he is MINE to do with as I please. Do you understand me, you pathetic little base-rat?'

Pita, bent over and clutching her stinging cheek, looked up at the woman in anger. 'No Banshee! He's my Brenna, and Moka said he could be my new doll! I want him back!'

The pain had finally subsided, and Lambert raised his head from the floor to watch the encounter between his two captors. He was actually impressed that Pita was willing to stand up to the ghastly woman confronting her.

'Moka promised the little base-rat she could play with the Navy pilot, huh?' the woman, Banshee, said, voice dripping with obvious sarcasm. 'I bet you two had all kinds of fun together, but now it's time for the grown-up to have her turn. Tell you what, little base-rat: I won't kill him. And you know what? I'll even let you watch what I do to him. Maybe you'll learn something, hmm?'

Pita looked up at her warily, but then abruptly brightened and nodded, straightening up.

'Good girl. Now go sit over there quietly and watch,' Banshee said, gesturing towards her gunship. Pita skipped over to the ship's fuselage and sat up against it, watching Lambert intently.

'Good. Now that that's settled, it's time to move on to the show.' Banshee walked back towards the ship, and Lambert stood and turned to face her again. She closed her eyes momentarily, then opened them again and refocused on him. A pair of robotic service mechs emerged from behind the ship, carrying a large cylindrical tank.

'Ignore them. They're simply setting up the props I'll need for my first trick,' she said, even as the mechs set the tank down next to her and turned to go fetch more supplies from the ship. 'I call it 'The Disappearing Man'.' She laughed, a horrible squeal of pure delight.

'I've done a lot of research on you while you've been playing at being a naval officer. In fact, I'd say that I know more about you than anyone else alive in Sirius today.'

Two things happened at the same time, and a rock dropped into the pit of Lambert's stomach as a feeling of unspeakable horror paralyzed him. The first was her next sentence:

'I know the truth about you... ALL of it.'

And the second was when one of the mechs returned bearing a large metal canister with the word CARDAMINE emblazoned on the side.

Login
Username:
Password:	Lost Password?
	Remember me